Dwindling in the mire of self examined will and the loss of a diagram, modern art swells from pages and monitors across a gallery in the shape of an american flag. fumed and lost in the past, art appreciators and artists alike hide in the side streets. with a pencil, pen in hand, they ride through the scene with themselves alone. an idea executed with a will of its own, interpretation is the key to success and those that dont understand are often left to the side. imagery takes up space comfortably, like a well timed joke. it has that last moment that causes a muscular reaction.
but i digress.
halazar gluckman's piece "abstract shark" comes right at you. it writhes off of a pane of glass, through the center of the context. it harkens to the days of the acropolis. athucra min cios. crossing path's with gluckman himself at an opening in luxemstadt, a patron of the arts of much renoune approached him with an idea. layers of texture enveloped the two and the rest is history, of course.
Atlanta Ga. hatred for the self. a perimeter of a population and beyond the ripples that settle. i grab a microphone in a small building full of people looking so cool they wont approach one another.
money falls out of pockets like invisible digits in a telephone wire. the society remembers gluckman. they see his scarred face and his shark.
to describe and define: a listof text as long as colin ferrel's unit. or so they say.
a tattoo inscribed on a brick wall at the intersection of moreland and briarcliff. zipping by towards an opening that you couldnt get friends to go to. you listen to the latest cd or a basketball game on album 88. darn it. wreck is better anyways
i dislike the art of the boarjwa zee. if it only had an expensive frame. if it were subversive and esoteric it could alienate itself and consequently rocket itself into a land of no relevance.